The Fail
by ms.j
Summary: What does fame give us? [From the unintentional Tandre shipper ;)) Thanks to jjohnson612 and jazzy2297 for their help]


Vegas was a city of lights, sin and taking risks.

For André Harris, it was just a city of broken promises and dead ends.

Graduating high school meant conquering dreams written in yearbooks. He was supposed to be a famous singer, a pop-R&B crossover surrounded by fame and the fruits of his hard labor from Hollywood Arts.

Then, life came and pimp slapped him back into good sense.

He did get a record deal a year halfway through his year at UCLA, only to find himself doing the background vocals for some pop tart blond princess singer who worked the synthesizers hard. Ki-Wow couldn't sing her way out of a wet paper bag with a hole cut in it. Ki-Wow was just a pretty figure-head with enough sexuality to sell CDs and barely cover the cost of his living in Nevada for the next three years. And when he did manager to cut an album a year later, it was fifteen minutes of fame that crashed into two years of debt and desperation and trying to recover from being a college dropout.

When the producer came to him with an offer to complete the selling of his musical soul, he said "no" coupled by some colorful words he wouldn't dare repeat in church.

That was six months ago. The longest six months of his young adult life.

He managed to get picked up by a band in one of the casinos in need of a piano player "without a rap sheet and a coke habit."

At least he wanted to wake up in the middle of the evening to turn out covers of Dean Martin and Sammy Davis, Jr. It numbed him to the lies he told everyone about how great he was doing compared to people in high school following five years of being out of school.

Tonight, he was at the Luxe hotel, staring at the Strip in all its lit glory after a particular long gig for a private party: His high school friends were in town for a Christmas time wedding. Trina Vega ran off with his former teacher's nephew, Jason Sikowitz and they would be having fifthly rich babies together. He laughed. The most talentless girl in HA managed to snag a successful TV producer. "Maybe I should've just done some reality shows. God knows it beats this-"

A female voice interrupted him. "You don't mean that. The punch is talking to you."

Spinning around, André was greeted with the sight of a woman in a black dress and kitten heels. Her chocolate locks were pinned into a fashionable bun by two plastic chopsticks. Her earrings were shaped like ornaments, making her appear like the mysterious A-list star the media wrote her out to be.

Victoria Vega stood a few feet behind him seemingly ageless despite the fact they were getting through their mid-twenties.

André gave her a real smile. Not the fake ones he tailored for everyone else. "You've been allowed to walk without your following."

She rolled her eyes. "I told my assistant that I'm quite capable of peeing by myself." Then, she narrowed her glance at him. "Why aren't you at the party?"

"The help doesn't mingle with the guests."

"You're not the help." She walked over to him and touched his arm. "You are a friend doing a few songs for Trina's wedding party. Besides, the guy who does the Dean Martin vocals has already enjoyed the open bar too much."

His smile vaporized. "Crap. Do you want me to get Eddie? I mean, the sauce makes him start telling bad mob stories and hitting on girls my sister's age."

"He's already talking about the 'real Vegas' and almost earned a black eye from Robbie. Guess Eddie has a thing for engaged redheads."

"Robbie?" Violent?" André covered his face with both hands. "Chizz. Do I need to bail anybody out?"

"No. Beck calmed the situation down...right as your lead vocal started hitting on Jade. Something about liking them stacked like his ex. Beck gave him the black eye. Not sure anybody really wants to press charges. It'll damper the Christmas spirit."

André lowered his hands. "There is no good ending to this, is there?"

Tori tapped a finger to her lip. "Trina's done with her post-wedding meltdown. Jade's...well, I've seen more emotion out of her as a hormonal time bomb than in the five years I've known her."

"I'm sorry for leaving you in a room with two pregnant women. I figured slipping away to this balcony wouldn't be so bad, but..."

Tori leaned against the rail of the balcony. "I'm used to rabid fans and mood swings from my co-stars. This is nothing."

"I thought you like doing ''Sabal Heights' when 'Ke$ha the Musical' is off-season."

She pulled the chopsticks out her hair and allowed those strands to fall. "I like acting on my soap. I love singing on Broadway. I just don't like dealing with the inflated egos of co-stars in two different genres. That and I can't figure out who's trying to make me break my leg. Literally."

"Ouch." He leaned against the rail also, mesmerized by Tori throwing her head back and shaking it. Now her hair ran down her back like a dark waterfall and he wanted to swim in it...

Reality reeled him back in as he touched his pants' pocket. His empty wallet forced him to remember why he standing out here alone. Paying gigs were few and far in was the best alternative. He pushed hard enough this year and got his certification. A posting for a music teacher back home in LA sat in his inbox. But, did he want to admit that the music biz devoured his ambitions and dreams like he did scrambled eggs for breakfast? The thought of fading from the music scene pained him. He would become one of those "what happened to so-and-so" with some type of sad VH1 episode chronicling his rise and definitive fall from fame. And the fall was coming. It was just a matter of when...

He hit the rail since hitting frustration and anger wasn't possible. Those were emotions, not tangible things. "What happened to us? We used to be kids. Things weren't this hard in high school."

She turned to face him. Her brown eyes colored with questions and wonder. "We grew up."

He shook his head. "Can we un-grown up?"

"I think it's too late for all that." She sighed and continued to stare at the sea of lights covering the city with him.

Soft breezes from the night air teased her hair. She hugged herself.

He made a move to hold her, yet guilty pangs gnawed at him. Who was he to hold her? Who was he to dream of her becoming more than his best friend from high school? Yeah, that awkward impasse where they almost fell into the "health class way" came and went. College, responsibilities, and dream chasing didn't give him time to dwell too deeply on what could have been.

"If you leave Vegas, it doesn't mean you're a failure. It just means you're leaving."

It was his turn to be surprised. How did she guess that what the weight on his mind? "Wow. Mind reader must be on that talent list of yours."

"I knew Cool House Records was in trouble before tonight. I also know a nameless vocalist cursed the producer out when he was given the chance to do a commercial holiday album."

"Tabloids hold a little bit of truth to them, eh?"

"Tabloids don't, spies do. My inside lady did an excellent job of keeping an eye on you."

He gave her a funny look. "You kept tabs on me?"

"Between running back and forth between three cities, someone has to."

Another thought came to him. Anger spiced his tone. "I'm sure Tyler wouldn't like that, you know, keeping tabs on another guy."

A faraway look entered her eyes. "I'm also sure that said ex-boyfriend used our relationship as a publicity stunt. He just didn't key me in on it."

"Dang." He saw her fingers grip the rail tighter. No way did he push the issue, especially when the hurt was as visible as her red lipstick.

"André, people only see the lights and the glitz. They don't see what all the stage make-up hides." Tori met his eyes again. Her gaze didn't falter.

He opened his mouth to ask her about the things that the stage make-up wasn't hiding for _her._ The tabloids ripped her relationships and career failures to pieces enough in the open. He did not want to probe about them here too. He just didn't want to see her cry. André edged closer to Tori and slipped an arm around her waist, allowing her to lean into him. He put his trouble thoughts on hold and chased one last dream in his head: the impossible dream of life with Tori.

Like falling snow, the silence between them descended like magic.

* * *

André wasn't sure how long they stood outside in that embrace when Tori finally spoke again.

She slipped out from his embrace. "Back to more pleasant topics, I think you'll make an awesome music teacher."

Bitterness crossed his lips. Reality had bad timing. "Those who can get deals, sing. Those who can't become faceless deal dropouts teaching at fine arts high schools."

"You wouldn't be faceless, silly."

"I want to. Can't let everybody know I suck."

The softness of her voice made him think of the piano music playing in the background: soft and comforting. "You never failed me."

"Thanks." He smiled as his heart leaped. Somebody affirmed him.

She smiled back then hooked her arm around his. "You can do this. I believe in you."

"I should put you on the payroll to be my yes girl." He paused. "If I had a payroll. Heck, I don't even think I have the roll."

Tori perked up. "You know what I think?"

"What?" He asked as she led him away from the balcony.

"I think we're going to escape the madness and find a jazz club to hang in. A place that serves peppermint candy in hot chocolate and nice conversation."

"And where is this land of make-believe?"

"Close to my hotel. One of the casinos is doing a whole Christmas wonderland with snow and ice and trees. And I love the group doing the Andy Williams covers. I feel like I'm home again."

"Leave it to Tori to turn me feeling like coal into feeling like a present."

"This isn't pity. This is my grand plan to get away from everyone and everything. Besides, I needed some type of excuse to make you happy."

He locked glances with her. What he felt over the years and what he felt now would never be faked. "Tori, you don't need excuses to make me happy. You do that all on your own."

Her smile warmed him over. "Good, then you can play a little piano later for me."

He made a show of faking a pout. "I knew I would have to work for my hot chocolate."

"I don't know." She teased as they strolled through the lobby with him, pressing her hips closer to his in the most torturous way. "You might enjoy this next type of work."

"Oh, really?" He raised an eyebrow, wondering how his demeanor improved after a twenty-minute conversation with a girl he hadn't really spoken to since they graduated high school.

"Come on! I have a cab waiting for me!" Tori tugged at his arm.

The two of them broke into a run, both acting like careless teens again for the first time in a long time.


End file.
